


Spend Your Whole Life Thinking This Way

by gala_apples



Series: Some Day, A Suit [4]
Category: White Collar
Genre: First Time, Other, Tickling, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After weeks of dinner dates, Neal and the Burkes decide to skip beyond dessert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spend Your Whole Life Thinking This Way

**Author's Note:**

> Before I started this series I did a lot of research about FtM transitioning, from hormones to masectomies to phalloplasties. From what I could tell, the techniques available in the era that Neal would have had his done weren't nearly as workable as what would happen now in 2014. Maintaining erotic sensation is apparently a new victory. If I got anything wrong, I give you my sincere apologies, and want to say it wasn't for lack of trying.

“Normally I’d insist on dessert-”

“I do have a nanaimo bar in the freezer. You don’t have a nut allergy?” Neal can’t imagine it not having come up during the meal planning, but better safe than putting the nutty bottom layer anywhere near her.

“No. But also no. I think it’s time for post-dinner mints and make outs.” El twists in her chair to look at Peter. “Don’t you?”

“That sounds like a plan, El.”

Elizabeth pushes her chair away from the table and crosses to where she’s left her purse on the red metal chair in the living room. No one ever sits in it, so at least it’s getting some use. She doesn’t pull out cellophane wrapped peppermints, or even a roll of Lifesavers. Instead she hands both of them a stick of gum and unwraps three for herself. A quick alternative to brushing our teeth, she explains around a mouthful. Neal rolls his wrapper into a ball and chews. If she wants minty fresh, he’s willing.

“You two go first,” El suggests after everyone spits their wad out.

Neal decides to do exactly that. He rounds the table and untucks Peter from under it in a deft move. Then he straddles him, a thigh on either side of his hips, hands on the top of the maple chair to stabilize himself. Peter’s hands automatically go to his back to shore him up. 

Their kiss isn’t some miracle, all he’s ever wanted. For one thing, Neal wants more than just Peter, he wants them both. Double or nothing. For another, Pete’s not entirely focused on kissing back. Neal’s not offended by it. Peter’s mind works the way it works. There are logistics to a threesome he’s no doubt mapping out, and then there are the specific things Neal brings to the game. There are a lot of things for Peter to divide his attention between. 

Peter actually startles when he tries to introduce tongue, although he does open his mouth a moment later. It’s too late, Neal’s already climbing off his lap. “I’m going to kiss Elizabeth now, feel free to stare.” 

He has a triple motive. Hopefully Peter will be so entranced he stops plotting and starts reacting. And hopefully that reaction is positive. They’ve talked this over through weeks of casual dinners and the Burkes feel confident there won’t be a jealousy problem. Neal’s gambling his happiness on Peter not going caveman. If he does it’ll most likely be now, when someone else kisses his wife for the first time. Neal would rather know now than when they’re all naked. Finally, he just wants to kiss her.

Neal takes one of her hands as he steps in. Their fingers twine as he kisses her neck once, then moves to the main event. El must have used her brief free time to touch up her makeup. Instead of using lipstick the way nearly all female professionals do, she’s wearing a teenager’s gloss. Her lips are wet and glidey against his, not waxy and slightly sticky. It’s odd but delightful. That she tastes like vanilla is just an added bonus.

When they stop they both turn to Peter. El’s grinning like the cat who ate the canary. Neal’s more inquisitive. They’re both rumpled. Pete’s half hard, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It’s possible to find something hot but not want anything to do with it.

The silence lasts a beat longer than it should. It would put Neal on edge, if he wasn’t always on edge, a little. 

El breaks first. “Honey?”

Peter shakes his head like a horse. “What? Sorry. Was imagining you two doing that with your tops off.”

“Not our bottoms?” Neal can’t help but ask.

El whispers, theatrically so, changing her volume not one whit. “Peter likes it. Half clothed sex, that is.” Neal blinks, trying to work this new facet of Peter’s character into his mental composition of him. El grins wickedly. “You didn’t think you’re the only one with fun ideas, did you?”

“I guess not.”

“So what do you say? Ready to take it to second base?”

Neal smirks. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint the ex major leaguer here.”

They’ve all come from work, they’re all in layers. They all have accessories too, at least six pieces of jewelry between them. Neal’s tie clip and cufflinks don’t provide much in the way of a barrier, he can take them off without looking down, without looking away from Elizabeth’s head bowed forward so Peter can undo her necklace. There’s a simple beauty in the gesture.

Neal doesn’t do a strip tease getting his tie and jacket and shirt off. He can either take his clothes off or dance, the idea of both at once doesn’t interest him. It doesn’t come as a surprise that Peter’s equally methodical. Neal can imagine him trying, like in their first year of marriage cranking the speakers up and attempting a lap dance only for the both of them to collapse into laughter. Tonight though it’s just buttons undone and sleeves off, and Neal appreciates it.

El, on the other hand, draws attention. It’s not so much that she’s making a dance of it. She’s just stunning, in a way that he and Peter are not. Cannot ever be, as men. Her chunky belt prevents her dress from falling completely off when she unzips the back of the top drops to her waist. The inside of the teal fabric is white. If it wasn’t for the seams it would look like partial nudity and a petticoated skirt. Neal takes a long look. It’s a sight worth remembering later for oil and linseed.

“Do you like straddling? We could do it on the couch,” Peter suggests.

“I do.” He does, especially being pinned. “But I’d rather use the bed. More room.”

Once there Neal doesn’t watch Peter and El wordlessly reassure each other that what they have will withstand this addition. He doesn’t walk away, and he can’t bring himself to say the words ‘you don’t have to’, but he can give them another sort of privacy. He settles behind El and starts peppering her back with kisses. She’s got such smooth perfect skin, apart from the slight red line of where her zipper sat. He can smell the perfume she dabbed on the nape of her neck, but the skin he kisses tastes of skin, not chemicals. 

The Burkes break apart. Before Peter can suck in more than a mouthful of air, Neal arches over El’s shoulder to get his own share. He needs reassurance too, just a different type. There’s vanilla gloss smeared all over Peter’s mouth, which is unspeakably hot. Elizabeth pats his thigh, then squirms out from underneath him, relocating to the top of the bed. Neal takes the movement for what it clearly is; an opportunity to get closer to Peter, a second first kiss. A better one.

Neal refrains from giving Peter a hickey. The temptation is there. A hickey is an interesting feeling, warm wet pressure and a little bit of teeth. Neal’s a sucker for sensation play. He would be even if his genitals were in working order. Practically speaking however, El has never once left one. It will be a huge outlier if he does so, and some of the more detail oriented but utterly ignorant agents might think Peter’s cheating on her. Neal refuses to be the reason for the disparagement of his character.

“Are you sure you want...?” Peter trails off, then rallies. “I know you said you liked it, but I can’t stop thinking about the time my brother kicked me in the face.”

Neal doesn’t particularly want to have this conversation when they’re all half naked and feeling sexy. But the lie he told Kate and Sara probably wouldn’t work here. Even if it did, he’s not sure he wants to tell it.

“The surgeries made me look like how I feel, and looks are nine tenths of it, for a guy in my line of work. But fifteen years ago the base level of skill was not what it is today. I feel a lot more being tickled than with a hand on my dick.”

He’s expecting clinical questions about sensation loss, as if that’s quantifiable. Instead Peter pries in a different way. “But you dated Sara?”

Neal shrugs. “Told her it was E.D., nothing personal. And I have a wide arrangement of cocks in the drawer that never get soft. Except the jelly ones, but that’s half the appeal.”

El stretches forward and takes his face in her hands, then pulls him in. His enjoyment is muted; it’s just as good as the first kiss they shared, but he can’t help but wonder if it’s borne out of pity. But when she pulls back her eyes are fiery, not a trace of sympathy in them. “We’ve got our own collection at home. We like variety.”

“Oh, really?” It’s different. It’s out of choice, not necessity. That doesn’t make it any less hot to imagine.

“Later we can compare what we’d most like to fuck Peter with, but for now I think you should take your pants off.”

Neal’s thumbs hook in his waistband, but there they stay. He knows he looks right, he’s been naked thousands of times since waking up the first time after the surgeries. But part of him worries they’ll be observing, searching for the difference. Or worse, taking the lack of erection personally. There’s a difference between intellectually understanding and emotionally accepting that your boyfriend will never get hot enough about you to pop a boner. So he hesitates, long enough for Peter to crawl up from the side. Peter kisses the back of his neck, light enough that it tickles. It’s hard to tell if that’s on purpose.

“You don’t have to. But say that you don’t want to. Stalling? Distracting? There will be no cons in this bedroom, Neal.”

A small, always thinking part of his brain wants to point out that they’re not in a bedroom, it’s a studio apartment and about three feet to the left he and Mozzie have planned some great cons. The rest of him raises his hands to touch El’s bra straps. 

“I will if you will.” There’s a _just don’t_ on his tongue that Neal doesn’t say. They _might_ observe. It might not even mean they don’t want him. Peter is a glutton for information, after all.

El’s hands move to cover his before he slips his out from underneath. Neal doesn’t look down, doesn’t need to see himself bare when he has his first chance to see more of Elizabeth. She’s not exactly how he’d imagined, but divergences are only for the better. 

Peter’s erection is noticeable against Neal’s bare hip, only a few thin layers of cloth separating their skin. He must like his con’s hands on his wife. Neal angles his legs a bit, gives Peter a harder surface to rut against. He doesn’t take it. Instead the bed creaks as Peter stands to strip himself. He looks good naked; well muscled, middling amount of curled hair, cock proudly hard. For a moment Neal seethes with jealousy but it simmers away. Their lives are both difficult in different ways, and at the very least Peter probably won’t take his sex life for granted for a while.

Peter reenters the bed from El’s side and doesn’t waste any time in pushing Neal until he’s flat on his back. The second he’s down Elizabeth is beside him, fingers of her left hand lightly walking over his collarbone. Between the two Burkes Neal’s pants and briefs go from mid-thigh to completely off.

El’s index and middle fingers skate up his neck, leaving a trail of sensitized skin in their wake. They stop for a moment on his jawline, then cut to the left. Her manicured nail skritches his bottom lip. His lips are one of the most sensitive parts of his body, and they’re already heightened from the kissing. A nail is more than enough to make Neal shudder.

“Yeah? Good,” Peter murmurs, not expecting an answer.

Elizabeth doesn’t stop. Not until finally Neal throws his head to the other side of the pillow. He’s not trying to get away from the touch, necessarily, it’s just so much and he has to move.

“Oh, I like this,” she says. “Let’s try something else.”

Neal can’t find a single thing wrong with that plan. 

El sits on his stomach, facing Peter at the end of the bed, dress hitched up her thighs. Her weight is enough to hold him down without crushing him. Neal wonders if some day she’ll agree to have sex with her hair in a bun. The line of her back is beautiful like this, but obscured. A bun would let him take in everything. It’s his last coherent thought for a while because that’s when Elizabeth digs a clawed hand into the top of his thigh. It’s another sweet spot of his. Neal’s mouth drops open. He’s not laughing. He gets why other people do, the few others that have asked him to reciprocate, but it’s never had that effect on him.

As she continues to flex her fingers Neal starts squirming. Then he moves onto bucking. El rides him through it. From a distance someone with poor depth perception might think he’s fucking her. He’s not, obviously, but she’s wet where her cunt meets his stomach. Though he’s blocked from sight, it wouldn’t surprise Neal if Peter was enjoying this too. After so long of messing with their lives, it’s probably a huge turn on to turn the tables and make Neal feel out of control.

“Gonna tag team,” Peter warns.

Neal would say you don’t have to tell me, but he’s positive Peter wouldn’t listen. Frankly Neal’s surprised he didn’t mention safe words during dinner. 

Pete goes with behind the knees. Neal would compliment him on a classic choice, but he can’t really talk. His mouth is frozen open, cheek pressed to the pillow. Between El and Peter he feels completely overwhelmed. It’s impossible to get a hold of himself. He’s shaking with it.

The way Neal comes isn’t as noticeable as cisgendered people. His cunt doesn’t clench and gush. His balls don’t tighten and spew. He still does though. He still gets that feeling of riding a crest, the _more more more oh god stop or I’ll die_. And he still gets endorphins afterwards, there’s no disputing that warm happy sleepy feeling. He just normally has to tell people he’s done because it’s not very visible. 

Not today. As his orgasm swells then breaks Peter’s hands still. That’s followed a beat later by El’s voice. “Do you like overstimulation? Or-”

Neal frowns through the afterglow. “You know? But I didn’t come.”

“Yeah, you did. It was in your body language. Now answer my question.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Great.” Peter claps once. “Now which one of us do you want to eat out?”

Neal laughs, startled and happy. Neither of them say ‘now you laugh’ sarcastically, wittily, like they’re the first person to ever think of it. And it’s in that moment that Neal believes that this could actually work, long term.


End file.
